Seduce Me, Sherlock
by gumiho18
Summary: Mind games can be fun - Sherlock holds this to be true, until he finds himself at the receiving end of one!


**Seduce me, Sherlock**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. BBC Sherlock belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss**

**A/N: This is my first foray into the Sherlock universe. Its been fun writing it. Hope you guys like it! **

"Seduce me, Sherlock."

"Pardon?" Sherlock Holmes said sharply as he looked up from the microscope. The only other occupant in the room was Dr. Molly Hooper who was in the middle of a yawn. She gave him a confused look as he stared at her with such intensity. "What did you just say?" He demanded.

"I said deduce me, Sherlock." Molly was returning his gaze head on. There was no blush painting her cheeks, her eyes were not darting around unable to meet his, she was not exhibiting any signs of a person caught lying. "It's so incredibly boring. At least your deductions would be entertaining if not altogether mean."

"That is decidedly not what you said." He glared at her.

Molly's confusion seemed to get worst at his reply. "I- What did I say?" She stammered, genuine puzzlement tainted her entire tone.

He cleared his throat. He never felt discomfiture. It simply was not the way he operated. "You said seduce, not deduce." He enunciated each word.

"Did I?" A slight frown formed on her face. "I know I said deduce."

"You did not." Sherlock insisted. He was not hearing things. His auditory capabilities were incredible. He would not mistake one word for another. Molly Hooper definitely said the word seduce.

Molly's brows were furrowed as she met his gaze doubtfully, still apparently standing behind the notion that Sherlock misheard her. "Is it possible that I…misspoke?"

Before Sherlock could answer that while it was possible he did not believe that it was a mistake in her part for she sounded quite confident as she said the word, the doors to the lab opened and revealed the lab tech that he never bothered to learn the name of to inform Molly that a body was just wheeled in for a post mortem.

"I'll just get that, shall I? Molly said cheerfully, perhaps because it meant that she was saved from his further interrogation. With a final wave she walked out of the lab, leaving a glowering Sherlock in her wake.

"_It's just one off."_

"_He'll still notice."_

"_No he won't."_

"_Yes he bloody will. He's bloody Sherlock Holmes."_

"_Well, yeah. But just try and be convincing."_

"_Try not to blush, yeah?"_

"_Yes, try not to. That'd be a dead giveaway."_

"_And meet his gaze, or he'll know you're lying."_

"_Look bored too,"_

"_How will that help?"_

"_You're supposed to be bored enough to bring it up at all."_

"_Fine."_

"_Good."_

* * *

"Fancy a kiss?"

Sherlock looked up at the question. His brows disappeared under his hair. He looked at his companion incredulously. "Whatever is the matter with you Molly Hooper?" He demanded.

Molly also looked up from her apparent examination of the body.

DI Lestrade asked him to view a body at St. Bart's. Unfortunately for him, John Watson had a coffee date with some woman Sherlock never bothered to remember. He went to St. Bart's with the full expectation of a worthy case. He did not go to the hospital with the notion that a previous encounter with Molly Hooper would be repeated, an encounter that he had yet to delete for further examination was required.

She was giving him a look that was reminiscent of the expression she wore on Christmas when he cut down her entire person in front of an audience. "I was simply being polite." Molly murmured in her typical mousy fashion.

"How does asking for a snog pass for polite conversation?" Sherlock inquired icily. He heard her quite clearly asking him if he fancied a kiss. He momentarily wondered if she was going to pretend that he misheard her again, like the first encounter when she asked him to seduce her. He snorted, deduce, did she really think that he was going to fall for that? He eyed her intently for any telltale sign of her deception.

Her cheeks turned pink and she lowered her gaze back to the body on the slab between them. "I didn't ask for a snog." She said meekly.

Sherlock glared at her lowered head. Again with the pretense. "I have perfect hearing, Molly. I distinctly heard you say fancy a kiss."

She squeaked and started shaking her head in denial. "N-no. I did not." She squared her shoulders and finally lifted her head to meet his gaze full on. "I did not say fancy a kiss. I said fancy a crisp."

He simply looked at her with disapproval. "You said kiss, not crisp." He countered with mild superiority.

Molly shook her head again, this time with more vigor. "I said crisp, Sherlock." Her voice was stronger. "It's almost dinnertime, I was going to pop over at the caf to get some and wondered if you fancied one as well."

Truly it was amazing, her audacity to continue with the charade. Sherlock watched her with avid interest now, not just mild irritation. He wondered what game she was playing. She was still a bit pink but firm in her stance. She was no longer avoiding his eyes. If anything she looked like she was challenging _him_. He smirked at her. "I am on a case." He finally answered; she knew full well that he did not eat when he was on a case, so why bother asking in the first place?

He glanced at the body for a beat, confirming his earlier deductions. "We're done here." Sherlock said as he took out his mobile, started texting Lestrade and walked out of the morgue, leaving a gawping Molly in his wake.

"_Must I?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Truly?"_

"_Definitely."_

"_This is worse than the first one."_

"_That is the idea."_

"_He'll definitely notice this time."_

"_To be fair, he'll notice the first one as well."_

"_He is Sherlock Holmes."_

"_This conversation is definitely not making me feel any better."_

"_This conversation is not about making you feel better."_

"_Practice makes perfect."_

"_You're a berk."_

"_Noted. So say it again."_

"_This time, say it quietly."_

"_You may blush this time."_

"_Thanks for the permission."_

"_Only after he repeats what you said."_

"_Not before."_

"_Definitely after."_

* * *

"Molly Hooper fancies me." Sherlock declared as he got up from his chair and started pacing.

John looked up from the paper he was reading to give him an impatient look. "That's hardly news, Sherlock." And he went back to reading.

He spared his flat mate an annoyed glance as he kept pacing. Molly Hooper was trying some sort of trickery to inspire some sort of feeling in him. Perhaps she had hopes of planting some suggestive words in his brain to propel him into acting on impulses that he had long buried. He was married to his work. He had no time for such frivolity. Sherlock thought that Molly moved on from such fanciful notions but recent events suggested otherwise.

Although, it seemed out of character somehow. Molly had stopped acting like a besotted school girl for quite some time now. If Sherlock was asked for the precise moment it happened, he would say the Christmas he humiliated her. After that she stopped looking at him with eyes that seemed to shoot hearts in his directions.

"Molly Hooper is trying to seduce me." He said matter-of-factly.

John lowered his paper with such haste. "Wh-what?" John's mouth dropped open, clearly with disbelief. "Are you sure?" Now stern.

"I do possess the ability to discern when I am being propositioned." Sherlock replied scathingly.

"It just doesn't seem like her." John muttered under his breath.

Indeed. And so he had a mystery to solve. What was driving Molly Hooper into saying things that he was positive she didn't mean?

"Come along John." Sherlock moved to get his coat. He needed a witness. While he was absolutely certain that he had not misheard her, it would be better to have an extra pair of ears so she could stop claiming that she hadn't said what she said.

"We don't have a case." John replied, seemingly confused by the change in him.

"Yes we do." Sherlock rejoined as he slipped on his coat and looked at John expectantly.

John sighed as he got up.

* * *

Sherlock was puttering around the lab.

He had broken down the chemical compound that Molly presented him with twice before he moved on to examining the body part that he asked her for two weeks ago. He wished that he wasn't in such a hurry to go to St. Bart's earlier, he forgot to bring soil samples that he needed to examine for future references. He was actually getting bored. Molly had yet to say something completely out of character and he was getting impatient.

John was way past bored, but he was using his mobile as some sort of console, playing what he said was angry birds. Sherlock had no idea why disgruntled fowls would provide much entertainment but John seemed to be enjoying himself well enough, occasionally pumping his fist in the air in triumph.

Molly had been called away by a colleague and had yet to return.

"Let's have dinner."

Sherlock's body froze as the words were said.

The words were verbatim. The Woman's words. It was said the way she said it. The correct intonation, the exact inflection. It sounded more like a purr rather than a statement. It was filled with the right amount of suggestion. The words were an invitation and not to dinner.

But it was all wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Because it was not The Woman's voice.

It was Molly Hooper's voice. Her voice was full of passion and laced with such suggestion.

Ever so slowly, Sherlock turned around and was faced with a Molly Hooper who was holding up takeaway menus and a wide smile. With a deep breath he looked at her for any sign of her hidden agenda. But there was no blush on her cheeks, the smile was incredibly sincere, her gaze focused on him and then moved somewhere beyond him.

John! Sherlock turned to look at his friend. John looked for the lack of a better term, normal. He did not look like he just heard words that Sherlock heard. But there was no mistaking it. She said it the way that The Woman said it.

"Good idea, Molly." John grinned at the pathologist. "Who knows how long we'll be here." John gave him an exasperated look.

Sherlock looked at Molly again. His eyes focused on her and just her. He needed something. His gaze flitted over her entire being, searching for a clue no matter how miniscule. So he'd know what exactly was going on. And there it was a slight tremor in her hand.

Sherlock focused on John then. He walked over to Molly and was looking through the menus with her. He spotted it then. "I'm not hungry." Sherlock said imperiously. Once he had their attention, Sherlock walked out of the lab.

"_Let's have dinner."_

"_Not quite there."_

"_Let's have dinner."_

"_Maybe lower your voice."_

"_Let's have dinner."_

"_Not like that."_

"_Stop laughing!"_

"_Can't help it, mate."_

"_She sounded a bit like a bloke."_

"_He said lower!"_

"_Not that low."_

"_Let's have dinner."_

"_Use your bedroom voice."_

"_Now you've made her blush."_

"_What? All women have a bedroom voice."_

"_I really need not hear this."_

"_My wi- ex-"_

"_Shut up!"_

"_We really don't need to hear-"_

"_Why? We're all mates here."_

"_Still don't need to hear any of it."_

"_Just try it again."_

"_Let's have dinner."_

"_Can you make it sultrier, yeah?" _

"_You're trying to seduce him."_

"_Imagine that, seducing Sherlock Holmes."_

"_Never thought I'd see the day."_

"_We don't even know if he has a type."_

"_I'm leaving."_

"_No you're not. Try it again."_

"_Let's have dinner."_

"…"

"_Can I take that as perfect?"_

* * *

His mind was consolidating all information. He almost had the answer, it was almost within reach.

Seduce me, Sherlock. Fancy a kiss. Let's have dinner. There was a common denominator in all three sentences. There was a point to them. The words were not her own. Of that he was certain. He analyzed the words and how he heard them. Practiced quality to each and every one of them. Her facial expressions in each instance. Molly Hooper was a better actress than he gave her credit for.

"Well then." Sherlock jumped up from his crouch on his chair.

"What now?" John looked at him with expectation.

"I'm off to see Molly Hooper." He announced with such cheer.

John frowned slightly. "Why?"

"I'm to take her up on her offer." Sherlock grinned at his flat mate as he grabbed his coat and walked out of 221 B.

Sherlock entered the lab with his usual flair and his eyes searched for the pathologist.

Molly was in the middle of her paperwork. She looked up at his entrance and spared him a small smile before focusing her attention back on her work.

He advanced towards her and hovered behind her.

"What can I do for you Sherlock?" Molly asked distractedly.

"Why Molly Hooper, I'm here to seduce you."

It was supposed to be just a bit of fun.

At least that was what John said. And Mike, well Mike trusted him. John Watson was after all a former soldier, a good doctor and more often than not a crime fighter. So when John suggested that maybe it was time to lose, just this once, Mike agreed. They always won anyway; losing just this once did not seem to be that big of deal.

Only it was.

Mike Stamford prided himself in being a good friend. He thought he was being a good friend to John when he agreed to lose. He didn't think that in doing so he was being a bad friend to Molly.

And now Molly was in a bind. "Let's just tell him, then." He whispered. Though, maybe he should stop whispering and just march into the lab and stop the train wreck unfolding before their very eyes.

Then again there was something quite compelling about what's happening. Mike cannot help but want to see how it plays out.

* * *

He thought it would be amusing. It was what convinced him to go along with John's plan.

Sherlock Holmes was married to his work. He blatantly ignored any advances made by women (shockingly a large number of the fairer sex finds Holmes attractive), as if he could not be bothered with such things. So when John suggested playing a prank on Sherlock in the form of Molly Hooper, well Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade went on a holiday and just Greg gleefully agreed.

He had nothing against Molly. On the contrary, he liked her. In fact, when he finalized his divorce, he attempted to go out for a pint with her. She agreed and when they met up, well Mike Stamford was with her and he knew then that she completely misunderstood his invitation.

Just as well, the ruddy woman was completely infatuated with Sherlock Holmes.

Still, when John said they were going to win, he had his doubts. Because they never win. It was only later, when Mike confessed to losing on purpose that he felt a little bad for Molly. And then he remembered all the bloody hats, ties and jumpers he had to wear and he stopped feeling guilty. Instead he felt a mild sense of satisfaction. But he did feel a twinge of guilt when John finally revealed his plans for Molly, but not enough to put a stop to everything.

Greg shushed Mike and kept watching. He was curious. There was a running bet at the Yard that Sherlock liked blokes, liked a specific bloke in fact (John, who they said just protested too much), and he had in a fit of irritation at the rest of his subordinates bet on Sherlock liking women. They thought it wasn't very rational of him. He informed them that he knew Holmes better than they did. Greg had the chance to win a thousand quid if he was right.

* * *

John did not have a mind palace.

He did not have a mind palace to store vital information. But John rarely forgot any offense committed against him. And Sherlock Holmes had plenty. So did Molly Hooper.

It was a given, that Sherlock could be such a twat. He wouldn't forget the time that his flat mate drugged him and let him run around the Baskerville facility like some scared pathetic wanker. But Molly Hooper, well Molly was an entirely different story.

John thought that Molly was this nice, sweet and angelic woman. She was pretty and she did everything that Sherlock asked of her. It took her a while before she finally learned and remembered his name. John did not take offense because he knew how overwhelming a character Sherlock was.

It was Greg who invited him to the pub one night and John got to know a darker side to Molly Hooper. Oh, she was nice in the beginning; she was all smiles and even bought a round for him, Greg and Mike Stamford. It all changed when the pub quiz began. She and Mike were a team. It left John and Greg to form a separate one. Apparently Molly Hooper had quite the competitive streak. She trounced everyone; she and Mike won the quiz. They had a friendly wager and Molly suggested they buy the drinks the next week. It seemed harmless enough. But as the time passed the wagers got worse and worse. John had to wear ridiculous hats, jumpers that were far worse than his own.

John decided he had enough when his hair got dyed a bright shade of ginger.

Molly saw an advert for some league that only accepted red heads. Sherlock thought that there was a scheme behind it and decided that John had to be the one to apply for a post at the league. He informed his friend that under no terms will he dye his hair red for a case that is not even certain to be an actual case. He told Sherlock that if he wanted to infiltrate the club then it's his own hair that he must dye. The next day he woke up and did not really find anything amiss, he went to the loo and it was only after he showered when he discovered what his flat mate had done to him. He was ginger. Now he had nothing against gingers but he never really fancied being one himself. When he stormed out of the bathroom to confront Sherlock, his flat mate raised his mobile and took a photo. Sherlock flatly informed him that Molly had wanted a picture of him with red hair. That was when John decided that the two richly deserved an elaborately planned revenge.

His decision was further reinforced when he tried to join the red-headed league only to be turned away, apparently the rest of those who lined up at a non-descript office were actors hired by a crime syndicate that targeted a specific red-headed man because he owned a shop that was across a bank. They needed to observe the place without the owner for hours at a time; they also used the shop in order to plan their heist. But because of Sherlock and his early involvement they managed to prevent the crime and also capture the criminals. None of which served to keep John from implementing his revenge, especially after Molly showed him his photo as a red-head and teased him about possible mediums it could be printed on.

Convincing Mike to throw the pub quiz was relatively easy. Oh, John knew that some of the hats, ties and jumpers that he and Greg were forced to wear were Mike's ideas. But Mike admitted that most of them came from Molly. John simply had to appeal to his friend's better nature; Mike conceded that Molly may have crossed the line with the ginger photo. So he agreed.

Greg was his ally the moment he brought up the chance to pull one over Molly. He was downright thrilled when John informed him that Sherlock was a target as well.

Coming up with the plan was rather difficult. He decided that Molly would be forced to say phrases…of the sensitive nature that would undoubtedly make Sherlock look at her twice. Molly would then pretend that she did not say what she actually said. John could picture how cross Sherlock would be once she did, the thought brought such joy. Molly would need proof of her compliance and Greg suggested that she place a call to his mobile, which he would not pick up so it would go straight to his answer phone. John had lost count of the times they played Molly and Sherlock's exchange, it remained incredibly entertaining, and his only regret was the lack of video feed.

When Molly and Mike lost the quiz, Molly was absolutely shocked. And when John told her the consequence of their loss, well she was incensed and demanded why she was the only one to suffer. Greg brought out a hat with hands that could clap; and a tie of dancing penguins; they were both forced to wear the hat when the four of them went to the cinema. He and Greg were asked to move or take off their hats, which was against the rules of their loss. Greg had to wear the tie at Scotland Yard and drew a lot of laughs from the other officers. Mike was going to wear both, he told Molly. John reminded her of all the instances when she used her victory to make him and Greg do the most humiliating things, he appealed to her sense of fair play. Luckily for him, Molly was a woman of her word and agreed to do as he asked.

She did try to renegotiate on the day she was supposed to utter the first phrase. Molly promised to delete his photograph but by then John was mad with his power over her, over the situation. Plus, he really wanted Sherlock to know what it feels like to be off kilter.

Despite his protestations, John knew that Sherlock was not above sentiment. He knew that his friend had a high regard for Molly Hooper. After all, the woman helped him at his time of need, without hesitation according to his retelling. He also knew that Sherlock simply stopped his description of Molly Hooper at pathologist, friend. Perhaps, he knew the danger of pursuing anymore might bring an end to his incredible access to the lab, morgue and body parts. After all it was Sherlock; he was bound to muck it up. Also, married to his work, as he was wont to say, whenever the subject of romantic relationships were brought up. But sometimes, not often, John would see Sherlock look at Molly with what he could only call as his softest expression.

Molly, for her part, was decidedly over Sherlock. At least that's what she consistently said when the topic was raised. She had gone on innumerable dates, none of which amounted to anything. Oh, it might have a lot to do with the fact that none of the blokes who came with her to meet the three of them ever got the seal of approval. Mike, Greg and even him found something wrong with the men. And when Molly demanded to know what was wrong with her dates, well they had no idea what to say, John didn't even know why they all failed to meet some unspoken requirement, all he knew was that they were all severely lacking.

And as he watched the two from their hiding place, also known as the doors, he knew.

* * *

Molly sat stock-still. Her heart was hammering loudly, so loud that she feared that Sherlock could hear it. Her mind was playing the words he just uttered over and over.

This was not part of the plan. She thought in aggravation. John Watson, see if she ever acknowledged his existence again. She slowly allowed her chair to turn so she could face the consulting detective. He was close, too close. He made no move to create any distance between them. She wheeled her seat sideways to put some much needed space from him. Only he advanced towards her, rendering her move moot.

She took a deep breath. "Pardon?" She tried to be casual.

Sherlock raised an elegant brow. "You heard me."

Molly blinked. "I-I"

"Unlike you Molly, I don't plan to be coy about my intentions. I said I am here to seduce you." Sherlock stepped forward again so that his leg was almost in contact with her knee.

Once again, she pushed her chair away and got up because confronting Sherlock Holmes while sitting down was not conducive to her ability to converse with confidence. Molly only realized the folly of her move when Sherlock was mere inches away from her.

The power of his stare was enough to render her mute. He was analyzing her. Deducing her.

Damn John. Damn Greg. And most of all damn Mike for their loss, because she knew that Mike was the reason they lost the pub quiz no matter how much he denied it.

"Um, thank you. But I'd rather you don't. Seduce me that is," Molly said and tried to laugh only letting out what could pass for choking sounds. She leaned against the desk, to try and create some distance between her and Sherlock. Big mistake.

"Come now, Molly." Sherlock placed his hands on either side of her on the desk, effectively trapping her. "You need not be shy." He crouched down a bit to whisper the words to her ear. "Isn't this the entire point of your charade?" His patrician nose brushed against her cheek. "Seduce, kiss, dinner. This is what you wanted."

It was getting harder to breathe. She shook her head or she tried to but Sherlock touched his forehead against hers and was looking at her with such intensity, Molly felt like she could drown in his eyes. She licked her suddenly dry lips and she saw his eyes follow her action, his eyes usually blue was almost completely dilated they were turning black. "It was just a game." She said as she closed her eyes.

It was a game, a prank that John concocted, her punishment for going mad with power. She only agreed because she had no intention of ever losing again.

"A game?" He whispered. "Does this seem like a game to you, Molly?" His wonderful voice was so hypnotic.

She finally opened her eyes but before she could answer, the doors to the lab opened once again and revealed the three men she was cursing moments ago.

"Enough, Sherlock." John said his voice full of disapproval.

"John, Stamford, Lestrade, Molly and I are having a private conversation." Sherlock replied in such a relaxed manner, he still hadn't moved from her person.

"Don't make me go over there and separate you two, Sherlock." Greg warned.

Sherlock pushed off of the desk and faced the three other occupants. Molly let out a sigh of relief. "What can I do for you, gentlemen?"

The three other men moved to stand next to Molly. Their move actually made her feel a tad better. It definitely felt like they were all on the same side. Against Sherlock.

John grumbled under his breath. "Go on then?"

Molly looked at John, slightly confused. John kept staring at Sherlock; she moved her gaze towards Greg and Mike, who were both frowning in puzzlement.

"Go on with what, John?" Sherlock's grin could only be described as shark like.

John folded his arms across his chest. "You know, obviously-"

"Obviously." The consulting detective echoed.

John glared at him in return for the interruption. "You obviously pulled that stunt earlier with Molly to draw us all out. So go on, show us how clever you are."

"You know?" Molly blurted out incredulously.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Of course I knew. It wasn't all that difficult to figure it all out."

Greg copied John's stance. "Stop being a git then and tell us how you knew."

Mike shook his head and gave Molly an apologetic look.

Sherlock looked at all four of them. "The first instance when Molly asked me to seduce her, in the pocket of her lab coat her mobile was lit up; obviously she had someone on the line, a co-conspirator perhaps, or a witness to some scene that clearly brought her some discomfort, her eyes were a little strained indicating a level of stress, obviously from what she had to say to me, why would she be discomfited unless she was forced to utter the words. Then I saw Stamford wearing a ridiculous hat on my way to the morgue, he said that he lost a bet. As if the hat was not enough to earn you some well-deserved ridicule, you happen to be wearing a tie with dancing penguins on them. The same tie that Lestrade wore two months ago, the same tie that Molly was looking at online a month before that-"

"Why would you remember Molly shopping for a tie?" Lestrade interjected. "Sounds like some unnecessary detail."

"And this is precisely why you have to come to me to solve the crimes." Sherlock informed him snidely. "That unnecessary detail was quite useful because Molly was exceptionally pleased with herself as she made the purchase, seeing Lestrade wearing the exact tie implied that he lost a bet to Molly. Once Molly said the seemingly innocuous phrase and her mobile were once again activated, I deduced that whatever was going on involved the three of you." He nodded in Molly's direction as well as in Mike's and Greg's. "I brought up the subject to John. And as you all know, he was there when Molly said her final piece, her mobile was also turned on again. The words were innocent enough, let's have dinner. Only you John are aware of the significance of the sentence, the invitation as it were. Therefore, you wanted me to know that you were a participant in this undertaking."

Molly did wonder about the last words she had to say to Sherlock.

"Not just a participant. I came up with the entire plan." John retorted.

"You must be proud of yourself." Sherlock said with such condescension. "You gave away the entire game when you pretended to not hear the same words the way that Molly clearly practiced. You tried to act normal, but your eyes betrayed you; your amusement was very much evident. When you patted Molly on the arm, you certainly tried to be covert about it, but it was obvious that you did it in an attempt to comfort her for what she just endured. You clearly did not think that you would get to witness your prank in action and felt a little guilty for subjecting Molly to such a humiliating exercise."

"Are you done now?" Greg asked impatiently. "So what you did earlier, just some payback?"

"I hope you've learned your lesson Molly." Sherlock ignored Greg. "You all seem to socialize as friends. Whatever landed you in this position, do try to prevent it from happening again."

Molly let out a relieved laugh, glad that Sherlock did not seem upset at being the object of John's prank. "Believe me Sherlock, I will. Am I right, Mike?" She shot Mike a significant look.

Mike gave her a small smile. "Definitely, Molls. Won't happen again." He glared at John in disapproval.

"Just ask." John told Sherlock.

Molly looked at him curiously. "What?"

He gestured to Sherlock. "He's wondering what exactly we do that we have to-"

"I admit that I completely ignored the nature of the game the four of you seem to be playing. That _was _an unnecessary detail in solving this case." He eyed Greg meaningfully.

Greg chuckled. "You missed something then. And it's not quite unnecessary as you imply."

"We go to pub quizzes. Molly and I are one team; John and Greg form the other." Mike started.

"We have a running bet, that whoever loses has to comply with the victors' demands." John continued.

"Like wearing preposterous hats and ties, John and I always lose." Greg said ruefully.

"Now that I've experienced being on the losing side, I may not be as ruthless as I have been in the past, no matter how treacherous your victory may have been." Molly gave Mike a mock glare.

"Maybe you ought to pick a more loyal partner." Sherlock suggested.

Molly thought about it and shook her head. "I think we should join forces and play as one team, yeah?" She looked at her friends.

John laughed and it turned into a coughing fit. They all looked at him puzzled by his reaction. "I agree with Molly." He turned to his flat mate. "You wouldn't be much use in pub quizzes anyway, Sherlock. You probably deleted all the answers to the questions. And you don't watch much telly."

Sherlock only looked at them with his usual 'I'm smarter than all four of you combined' expression.

Molly's brows furrowed as she took in what John just said. Then she blushed at the implication. Did Sherlock want to be her partner for the pub quiz? But the two of them rarely socialized outside of St. Bart's. Did he want to start now? Were they going to be real friends, like the way she and John were?

Mike coughed somewhat uncomfortably. "As fascinating as this has been," He took out his mobile. "I have to go." And he walked out of the lab.

Greg's mobile rang, he excused himself and he took it outside for privacy.

John was smiling widely, a little too widely for Molly's taste. He was wearing the same smile when he informed her of her task after her loss.

Before he could say anything Greg reentered the lab. "Murder, quite ghastly apparently. Shall we?" He looked at John and Sherlock expectantly. "Would spare me the trouble of calling you lot later."

Sherlock nodded imperceptibly.

John nodded and moved to hug her. "Ta for being such a sport Molls."

She laughed as she returned the hug.

John then started for the door, asking Greg for details about their new case.

Molly let out a sigh and she was just about to sit back down and finish her reports when she saw Sherlock, still in the room with her. She thought he had left without so much as a goodbye as she and John hugged.

"Um-"

It felt like everything happened in slow motion. Sherlock advanced towards her and placed the gentlest of kisses on her cheek. "Let's have dinner." He said as he stepped back. He flipped the collar of his coat. "I'll text you the details." He turned to leave, his coat billowing behind him.

Molly stared at the still moving doors, completely bewildered.

He popped back in. "Once the case is over." Then to Molly's utter amazement, he winked before disappearing from view.

Molly touched the cheek that Sherlock kissed. "What just happened?" She wondered aloud to the empty lab.


End file.
